


respect for such holy ground

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [13]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Gags, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Quiet Sex, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 11:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16283768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: It’s not blasphemy. Not here. This church was built for Joseph, for his purposes, whatever those might entail.





	respect for such holy ground

**Author's Note:**

> While it's heavily implied Rook's totally fine with what's going on here, he doesn't speak so there's no outright confirmation of consent. Please put your own mental health above enjoyment of entertainment always! <3

Church is a place for silent repose. For quiet consideration, reflection. Joseph may raise his voice on occasion, when the need grows too great and the Voice calls forth a tone to bring heads around. Brings bodies to heel. But he does it when the doors are open, when the windows have been flung from their sills to spill his voice and his lessons out into the world. 

When the church is quiet like this, it demands much of the same from its inhabitants. Hushed prayers and soft words murmured out in benediction.

Joseph will keep this a place of quiet prayer and devotion. If he must force it, well...he’s forced things before. It’s laughably easy now.

Rook’s eyes go wide when he forces the gag between his lips, a snarl bursting free before it’s smothered. White teeth, just a touch too sharp--Joseph knows well the marks they can leave--clamp down around the strip of fabric. He shushes him, quiets without words, as he ties it loosely behind his head.

Not enough to be an actual force of silence. A suggestion and an order. Seeing and testing if Rook will obey for once in his life. 

There’s a moment where Joseph doesn’t think he will. Expects the gag to be spat at him alongside some choice words. Rook doesn’t accept, just yet, that what is between them, molten hot and roiling like an angry sea, is natural. Normal. He falls into Joseph’s bed and against his hands but he still fights.

He expects nothing less. If Rook did not fight, he would not be Rook. 

But Rook sighs, shoulders sinking, seeming content to wait. Joseph doesn’t ever allow himself to think Rook’s given up. He never gives up. But he gives _in_ and, occasionally, for the moment, that’s enough. 

Rook eases himself back against the altar, against the podium Joseph has spent countless hours at preaching to his faithful. His thighs spread as Joseph’s hands trail upwards, towards the closure of his jeans, and there’s a challenge in his narrowed eyes. Fear, maybe, behind the layers of bluster. Eyes darting around to the writings on the wall, the pews still scattered with his gospel after he’d brought his sermon to a close, Rook’s now-familiar three beep call through his radio telling him he was close enough to visit. 

It’s not blasphemy. Not here. This church was built for Joseph, for his purposes, whatever those might entail. This is the man Joseph is meant to spend the rest of his years on Earth with, stride side-by-side into Eden with. This is not a sin and Joseph will not allow Rook to think it is.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Rook tips his head, brow arching as if to challenge the assumption. “You’ve been raised to see this as sinful. In a church, on holy ground. But it’s not, not between us.”

Joseph’s hands shake as he works Rook’s belt free, fingers a bit numb with excitement, blood rushing in his ears already. He’s not unpracticed with sex, nor sex with men, despite what some may think. But Rook is _different_ , he’s known that since he locked eyes with him in the church so long ago. Known it since careful fingers, gentler than the viciousness in the air belied, slipped cuffs onto his wrists with a whispered “please. Please just don’t resist.”

He hadn’t resisted. Had let it all flow over him. Joseph had fought for so long finding Rook and being able to let go was...a blessing in its own right.

“I can think of nothing more perfect than this, now, between us. Everything we once were culminating in this very moment right here.” There’s a scoff from behind the gag, hushed but there. “I know you fight it. You fight yourself, your needs and wants struggling with everything you’ve been taught. But do you not feel it too?”

Joseph can’t help the breathy exhale that escapes as he wraps his hand around Rook’s cock, stiff and hot, proof positive that he _does_ want this. He’s only a man, he’s plagued with doubts about Rook’s love, about their place in each other’s lives. In moments like this, those doubts are swept away. Beaten back with the response of Rook’s body to his touch, to his presence. 

His head rises when no response comes, no scoffs or grunts of disagreement. Rook’s still, shoulders up around his ears, but his eyes have drifted closed. There’s a sense of...peace? Hips rolling into the pumps of Joseph’s hand, jaw working against the gag, twitches beneath the eyelids. 

Joseph breathes out an endearment, something mindless as he leans forward, tips their foreheads together. His free hand rises, cupping Rook’s cheek, thumb pressed to the wet fabric at the corner of his mouth. He waits, patient, keeping pace, ignoring the ache at his own hips for the moment.

His lust isn’t important right now. Nothing is as important as Rook’s acceptance. 

Blue eyes, so much like his own, open and shine, a sheen across them that speaks of desperation and need and not sadness. Acceptance. Love. 

“I love you.” Joseph whispers, hears something that might be a defeated echo from behind the cloth.

He can’t remove it, cannot risk breaking the stillness and silence of the church, even his ministrations little more than a whisper. But he _wants_ to. Wants to hear Rook scream his name, beg for it, admit to wanting this just as much as Joseph does. He’s heard it before, moments of desperation when he winds up Rook just to watch him go. 

This isn’t the time or the place. And still…

“When this is done, when Eden comes to Earth once more,” Joseph turns, dips, speaks the words into the strip of fabric that’s keeping Rook from answering, “we will find ourselves here once more. No more hiding. I will have you on this very altar, in front of our followers. Will show them what true belief gets someone. Will place you in your rightful position. My Herald. My love.”

He can picture it already. Something that usually only dances along the edges of his dreams, too good to be true, too much to hope for. Some of his people suspect, he thinks, are more cautious in raising weapons Rook’s way. There is something more in their eyes when he speaks about the Lamb brought to them by the White Horse. Understanding, perhaps, or hope in a different way than his brothers and sister provide. 

Rook is different. Has always been different. Some of them are starting to understand but when all is settled and the world is anew, they will _all_ see what he truly is.

Rook says something, muffled, hidden, and Joseph is glad for the gag. His voice rises, hips jerking into Joseph’s hold, lust ratcheting tighter inside him. The world will hear Rook’s praise, will see what has only been for Joseph’s eyes up until now. But it’s not the time and he needs Rook to live in silence for a bit longer.

Just a bit. Until the Collapse has come and gone and they are underground, introducing the faithful to their new Herald. The Executioner who spared them after Jacob’s judgment and John’s jury have tested their mettle, their belief. When Rook takes his rightful place at Joseph’s side and in his bed, where he was always meant to be.

“Soon,” he murmurs to the sweat dripping down Rook’s temple, to the hands that reach out to pull him closer, the words he’s trying to speak through the fabric. “Soon, my love. But not yet. For now...come for me. Show me your devotion.”

And Rook, hellfire in his eyes, words hidden in the face of everything holy, _does_.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna check what's coming next this month? Make sure to check out [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


End file.
